


In the Dread of Night

by Tamoline



Series: And Then There's You [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-24
Updated: 2019-11-24
Packaged: 2021-02-18 07:00:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21540277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tamoline/pseuds/Tamoline
Summary: Natasha wakes up with a completely ridiculous bad feeling. There's no need to bother Darcy. She sets off anyway.In which Natasha grapples with starting to feel things, with distinctly mixed emotions on the subject. She was never trained for this.
Relationships: Darcy Lewis/Natasha Romanov
Series: And Then There's You [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1552363
Comments: 4
Kudos: 59





	In the Dread of Night

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DopeyTheDwarf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DopeyTheDwarf/gifts).



  


Natasha wakes up suddenly, trapping a whimper in her throat. There’s no one around, no hint of anything wrong, but she’s on her feet in a defensive position, eyes straining in the inky darkness, before she’s even fully conscious.

It’s a dream, she tells herself, even as any hint of what might have happened in it fades like dew in the summer sun. She rarely remembers any of the incoherences that pass through her brain upon waking, is generally all the happier for that fact, but this time, tonight, she can’t quite drive the impression from her that something might be amiss somewhere else. Can’t stop her feet from padding towards the door, her hand from turning the handle.

It’s like a current within her, tugging her inexorably towards Darcy’s room. The compound is different at this time of night, ghostly quiet, lights automatically blinking on silently as she approaches, flicking off behind her, a pool of artificial light that laps around her, like nothing else in the universe exists except for what’s in her immediate vicinity.

Finally, Darcy’s room materialises in front of her and the pushing within her finally subsides a little, counterbalanced by the foolishness of what has brought her here in the first place. It’s… If there was anything wrong, Friday would have told her. She could just turn around, maybe go back to her room, catch whatever sleep she can in the rest of the night. Barring that, she could head to the office, get a head start on some work for the day, regardless of the judging looks Darcy would no doubt send her when she finally wakes up.

But there’s still the twist in her gut, the completely worthless nervousness that doesn’t feel like it’ll disappear until she sees Darcy for herself; the shrewd suspicion that if she leaves now, the current within her will grow stronger again, leading her back to Darcy’s door… And, honestly, it’s that ridiculousness more than anything else that drives her to knock on the door. Just gently, she tells herself, just enough to assuage the ache within her, so she can tell herself that something has been done, that she can go back to bed without disturbing Darcy further.

Honestly, it’s ridiculous that she feels the need to do this. The her of a few years ago would be amused and more than a little bemused to see her now. The her of a few decades would be disgusted that she’s fallen so low.

She waits for a few minutes, to give herself all the time she needs to assure herself that she did everything possible before leaving, that she doesn’t need to stand out here looking at an incongruously plain door given who resides behind it. She’s just about to turn away when the door opens, revealing a distinctly dishevelled and groggy Darcy.

“Hey,” Darcy croaks when her eyes focus on Natasha, a smile lighting up her face so much, in such an unfiltered way that it pierces Natasha right through the chest. Darcy certainly can look more put together, more dolled up, more sexy, but it’s hard for Natasha to think of a time when she looks more beautiful than when she’s bare and honest like this, “What’s happening?”

Natasha shrugs. “Nothing, really. Just wanted to see if you were up.” She looks Darcy up and down. “Which apparently you weren’t,” she adds sardonically. “So, sorry for that.”

Darcy brushes her hair with one hand self consciously, and — well, at least Natasha’s gotten to the point where she can admit to herself that she finds that cute. Then Darcy shakes her head before looking back at Natasha. “Hey, no fair to pick on the half asleep person. It obviously wasn’t nothing, otherwise you wouldn’t have come round at this time of night. Care to come in and talk about it?” She steps back, opening the door as she goes.

Natasha has to admit the thought, the sight of Darcy’s room is inviting. Cosy, even. Maybe a little relaxing. Apparently being this much aware of her feelings is a good thing, or so she’s been told. Natasha isn’t so sure, herself. But she’s unable to resist the siren lure of being with Darcy right at the moment, even though her immediate urges are slaked, and so follows her in, shutting the door as she does.

“So, is this a chair talk, or one for the bed?” Darcy says, settling down on the bed and drawing her feet up after her, curling her arms around her knees.

Natasha pretends to consider, but she already knows what she’s gong to choose. “Bed, I think,” she says seating herself down besides Darcy. “If nothing else, that way I won’t have to look at your scruffy state.” She smiles, focussing on her lap, unable to look at Darcy, feeling all too vulnerable before her like this.

She really hates feeling like this, and in the small hours of the morning is all too ready to blame Steve and his support groups.

“I’m too messy to look at? Well, I’m sorry, Miss ‘I’ll come and wake you up before the horizon is even thinking about dawn’.” Darcy says in a tone of mock offence.

“You’ve been spending too much time with Rocket,” Natasha says dryly before firmly reminding herself that she’s been trying to be more honest with Darcy. Her girlfriend. Her girlfriend, Darcy. “But, no, you’re just as gorgeous now as during the day,” she says, trying to sound sincere. “Just a little differently,” she adds in an attempt to soften that.

“Awwww, thanks, babe,” Darcy says, an arm snaking around Natasha and drawing her tight against Darcy’s body and, oh, Natasha still can’t quite believe how much she’s come to need this, over such a short period of time. She’d never thought that she be part of one of those couples, unable to keep their hands off each other. Had, in what passing relationships she’d had previously, been rather fond of her own space, only touching when there was a purpose to it.

Now it seems that something has cracked within her, that touching has become its own purpose and Natasha is still rather unsure of what to make of it, unsure how to feel about it, but can’t help enjoying it all the same.

“So, what did you want to talk about?” Darcy asks after they’re settled, Natasha’s head somehow ending up on Darcy’s lap, her feet having moved the chair around and a bit closer so Natasha could rest her legs on it. “Words,” she reminds Natasha when she hesitates.

Natasha lets out a sigh. “It’s nothing really. Bad dream. Needed to see you.” She shrugs. “I’m sorry I woke you up. I didn’t actually mean to.”

Darcy cards a hand through Natasha’s hair. It’s not unpleasant, but it probably more for her benefit than Natasha’s, especially given how she reacts when Natasha does this to her. She pushes her head into Darcy’s touch anyway. “You didn’t, technically. I asked Friday to let me know if you were ever looking for me. Especially if you were being all hesitant about it.”

“Oh great. So I’m predictable now,” Natasha says, going for a joke, not quite managing to get there, anxiety of a completely new type knotting her up inside. Deception is how she’s made her way in the world all these years, how she’s lived, how she’s survived; even against forces far stronger and more powerful than her. In a very real sense lying to people is who she is. What has she got if there’s even one person who can see through her?

“I wish!” Darcy says, so fervently it’s hard to deny, though Natasha twists around in her lap so she can see her face, just to make sure. “It’s just… I know how hard this is for you, babe. I don’t want you to try and reach out and fail at the last inch.” Her mouth twists. “I know this is grossly mushy, but I kind of want to be there, reaching out for you if you want it. You get what I mean?”

Natasha can’t help laughing, low and amused. “Yeah, it means that I’ve got to make sure that no one else gets to hear you talk like that. Steve or, god forbid, Rocket would never let it go.” It does help, though, knowing Darcy feels that way.

Knowing that Darcy’s trying as well. Not that she wasn’t already aware, intellectually, but still…

Darcy giggle snorts, before making an sour face. “Yeah, let’s make sure that never happens. So, bad dreams? I thought you didn’t tend to remember them.”

“I didn’t in this case either,” Natasha says flatly. “Which just made the… impulse… to come here all the more frustrating, because I had no actual reason to do so.”

Darcy hugs her for a moment, and Natasha hates the fact that it makes her feel a little better. “You know you don’t have to have a reason to come see me.” She yawns. “You don’t even have to knock if you don’t want to. Can just come in here, curl up in bed beside me if that’s what you feel like.”

Natasha won’t be doing that, she knows. Can’t even imagine doing it, really. Not without making some kind of reciprocal offer and… no. Natasha’s room, as barren and characterless as it is, despite the fact that she knows on a bone-deep level that it’s not hers, that it’s not safe, that anyone could come in at any time and do whatever… There’s still a part of her that clings on, that insists that any such intrusion without her explicit permission would be a violation, even if, especially if it’s a friend, a lover. Someone who’s as close to her as Darcy.

So she shrugs, smoothly sits up. “I guess that means I should let you get back to sleep, now that I know everything’s fine.” She’s just about to get up when Darcy reaches over, gently curls a hand against one wrist. Not enough to encapsulate it, to even attempt to restrain, but just enough to let Natasha know she’s there. “Or — weird idea alert — you could spend the rest of the night here. You know, where you can keep an eye on me.”

And, oh, that does seem tempting right about now. She does consider a play for making this something more charged, something less intimate but… She takes a breath, makes it two. No. Just this is fine for now.

“Sure,” she says, getting up off the bed. Darcy, like always, gets in first, trusts Natasha enough to show her back, her ass which Natasha can’t help admiring for a moment, before she climbs in after her, closest to the door so it’s easier to react if anything happens. Not that it will, but it helps her relax regardless.

“Good night,” Darcy murmurs as Friday turns the light off.

“Good night,” Natasha murmurs into her neck as she shapes her body around Darcy’s, already feeling heavier and more sleepy than she would have thought possible several months ago.

Darcy’s breathing still becomes regular first as she slips into slumber, and as Natasha follows her, ready to have her back, she can’t help thinking maybe this isn’t so bad.

Maybe it’s not always so bad to acknowledge what she wants after all.


End file.
